Wonder Woman: Wrath of War
by ImperfectSystem
Summary: I look upon Man's World and what do I see? A sick and pitiful creature, grappling for its last string of life, of meaning. This world has seen nothing but war and suffering since our sisters have left it. Broken, beyond hope...so tell me...why are they worth our time? Tell me Diana...why do they deserve our help? The answer is that they don't... They deserve to be ruled...
1. Prelude

— **PRELUDE—**

It was a time that nobody will ever remember, lost in the forgetful river of time and memory. It was a time of heroes, legends, myths…but also…a time of villains, a time of war and darkness.

In a long and barren field, stained red by the blood of innocents, where once stood a beautiful city of good people, now laid waste by evil. Two armies met at the centre in a violent clash of steel. Then fire rained from the skies, momentarily separating the clusters…momentarily.

Hippolyta grasped the hilt of her sword tightly. The fires of battle hot upon her face as she sped across the battlement, slashing down every enemy soldier in her path. She stopped atop a hill, allowing her some reprieve as she gathered her wits. The trickle of blood trailed down her arms but she did well to ignore them.

Clad in her red hard leather cuirass with platinum rimming her breasts, greaves and bracelets as well as her sparkling silver tiara upon her raven head, she analysed the battle. The enemy was advancing from almost every direction. Their numbers quickly overwhelmed the militia that Argos had lent to the elite warrior Amazons. They needed to end this battle fast.

She breathed in some much needed respite. Fire spread across the ruined city as bodies littered the cobblestone roads. Blood flooded the streets and screams echoed the songs of the underworld. She felt tears begin to appear and before her vision became ruined, she ran down into the fight once more.

The young queen was soon joined by two other warrior women in her run. Loyal soldiers and warriors as cunning and resourceful as any military leader could ever ask for. But who they were to go up against was more than just an enemy. He was a crazed killer driven mad by a jealous goddess. Once heralded as a hero up until Hera herself tricked him into killing his own family.

They were pulled to a stop too suddenly as three acolyte Castors in silver armoured robes atop adjoining towers were firing streams of blue magic from their hands. Hippolyta looked to one of her officers. 'Kill the castors, we'll find the sage,' she commanded to which her women roared their compliance.

They broke up into two groups. Medea took her squad up the ramparts in front of the towers and they all leapt into the structures perfectly landing inside where they were greeted by an enemy team of around twenty foot-soldiers. They slashed at them, right to left as they advanced up the tower.

It took them no time at all to make it to the top where hooded castors awaited the young women. Without hesitation they sent flames against the Amazons. Seven trained warriors against three mages seemed an unfair fight no matter how you looked upon it. They were without a doubt skilled, but Medea's twin blades cut through the first castor while it took three of them to take on the others. Two would distract the mage while the third jumped over, swords drawn and they plunged the blades deep into their throats.

The castors however, had a master whom trained and protected them. The Sophos or _'sage'_ was the masters of spellweaving and known as the wisest of human minds. They chose the Oracles of Delphi and were once looked up to by all of Hellas. Tragic to see them corrupted in such a manner…by the gods of Olympus that they once revered of all things.

Hippolyta had taken ground with thirty-six of her best women to track down the Sage. He was in a field where once would have stood an acropolis of the city. When the elderly sage found himself surrounded by armoured soldiers, he raised a wall of fire and stone around him.

'I need a ladder!' exclaimed the Queen and they all held ready for her at the edge of the wall of red, they waited for her to charge with her poler-arm. She jumped onto their raised circular shields and used them as boost to hurl her over the wall.

'NO!' The last thing the sage worded before a golden tipped spear run through his open mouth and through the back of his head. Instantly the wall crumbled at his final breath.

Their Warrior Queen drew away from the now dead sage and led the army back into the thick of battle. 'We need to find him fast,' she yelled to another commander a few strides ahead.

The Amazon warriors dispatched more Athenian hoplites guarding the portal to the temple island. Their shields clashing upon the enemy's with so much force that at times their skulls shattered at the impact. Shields splintered them onto the grounds like skewered boars.

Then their war-shouts filled the ears of every man that fought against them. They were truly the soldiers of Olympus, fierce as lions and reflexes as quick as the cheetah.

The wide bridge was swarming with soldiers whom had to retreat to guard the entrance. 'Rally the others and prepare them to flank!' She barked out her orders. Her warriors nodded and ran off away from her.

The Queen stood before the larger army—larger than, but not as skilled as her own. She paused and looked onto the temple on the other side of the bridge. She saw him—the famed Heracles, standing brazen atop the steps of the Temple of Zeus. He looked proud though she knew he truly felt otherwise. She could see it in his eyes, vacant, almost inhuman.

Hippolyta sighed in mere sadness at the hero of Hellas, dressed in nothing but a tunic covering his lower body and a greatsword resting at his side. His eyes…he'd been crying. In his grief he resigned to destroying himself and the gods along with him. Fortunate however, that this stage of Heracles' schemes had yet to see fruition.

But she knew as well as most, that a heart torn apart by anguish can so easily be woven into something far more terrible.

'We are here to serve you, my Queen.' She turned to see her lieutenant standing with a thousand heavily clad women behind her. 'We will end this here tonight.'

Hippolyta tried to smile. _We have to end this here, now_. She placed a hand on the older woman's shoulder. Ever the eager woman that she was, Atalanta was the greatest Blademaster in the world so she had reason to be, but often she felt her loyalties dwindle. 'Are you sure you are alright, sister?'

Heracles was once a friend of hers. They were on the same task force questing for the fabled Golden Fleece. Atalanta sighed. 'We've been through a lot together, Heracles and me…' she pointed her blade to the hero. 'My best friend died the moment Hera forced his blade. That man that fights against us…is not Heracles.'

'Then may Hades be able to extract the hero once again.'

Atalanta nodded and with her Queen's permission, sounded their battle cry, clattering their weapons together like thunderous drums.

Across the bridge, Heracles descended down the temple steps, 'Atalanta, the brave and strong…but also quite foolish, to come face me by yourself.'

'As you can see, Herc, I am not alone here!'

The hero began to laugh loudly. 'You believe that meagre force is enough to stop me?!' he taunted, dragging the ginormous sword which seemed as big as himself. 'Hera has blessed me with the powers of Olympus, so denied to me by my father.' His eyes began to glow the blue of lightning. 'Nothing can stop me!'

Hippolyta watched the exchange. She saw Atalanta shaking her head furiously at her friend's words. They were so twisted from how she'd remembered him before all of this madness. Her hands tightened around her spear. Hippolyta tried to grab her attention for a moment. 'Look, you've got to get your head into the moment, sister. Can you do that?' Atalanta nodded. 'Good. Now, I need you to take your troops in, Core has taken her own soldiers across the river from the south.' She gave the signal and they all charged the enemy forces.

It was a blood bath and Heracles was running out of men. The Amazon women drove the men back but that position was not holding up, Heracles gritted his teeth and jumped from the top of the stairs, landing onto the grounds below with his greatsword thrusted into the earth. The heavens seemed to roar the skyward thunder and rattled the mortal world angrily.

Somehow, that move had filled the hearts of Heracles' army with hope and fury. They began to fight back with multitudes of vigour and savagery that would frighten even the God of War himself.

Hippolyta suddenly found her forces were fast becoming overwhelmed. With each passing moment, her women had begun to take steps backwards. She cursed aloud as the enemy pressed forward harder. Their shields were large, building large rectangular walls, thus the Amazons found difficulty to push on. 'Hold ground, Warriors!' she barked over the clamouring. 'Push further!'

Atalanta looked to her Amazonian friend, an idea on her mind. 'I need to get to Heracles. No matter what, we need to distract him. I've got a plan, Hippolyta. I need to get to him.'

She smiled and nodded. 'Okay, what do you need us to do?'

'I need a boost, my Queen'

Suddenly the Queen grabbed her by the shoulder. 'I can help with that.'

On the other side of the sea of soldiers, Heracles stood with his sword in front of him, digging the blade into the stone. A smile played his bearded face but one that was all too strange that if he were to look in a mirror, he'd see nothing but one of the monsters he'd slain in his youth.

' _Deep down, we are all monsters,_ ' he muttered to himself.

This was what he'd been waiting for all this time. A chance to see the greatest monsters of all, hidden within the minds and souls of all gods and mortals. He looked up to the heavens… ' _This is for you, father,_ ' he spat.

…ARGH!...

The demi-god staggered backwards but still standing on his feet…a long spear sticking out of his right shoulder. 'Argh, by Cronos!' he cursed as he regained his balance and looked around for the origins of the shot. To his surprise a familiar face landed at the bottom of the steps. 'Atalanta,' he hissed, ' _Kariola!_ '

'I came here to save a close friend, Heracles.' She started, pulling out her sword from its scabbard, 'A friend!' She watched as the demi-god pulled the spear as quickly as he could. Not a great many things could penetrate the divine skin that protected him, it caught him by surprise but he was adaptable and she knew this. 'But I now see that the Titans have all but killed the real Heracles.'

The larger man chuckled at her. 'You believe you could balm me for my better half…but you misunderstand the situation, old _friend_.' He then threw the spear back at her but Atalanta managed catch it. 'I sense holy water…you dipped the spear into the River Styx?'

'It isn't just the spear, Herc.'

'Then finally, things have gotten interesting.' With that, Heracles leapt into the air and then appeared behind her. 'Where are the others?' he inquired quite deceivingly innocent, 'Jason and his little band?'

' _Our_ band, Heracles,' she corrected. 'The Argonauts included you as well, it always will. But you are mistaken to believe they are necessary in stopping you.' Then the talking was over and the warrior lunged forward but Heracles, faster and more experienced, dodged the attack. She tried again but Heracles again, evaded the series of swings she made.

Again the demi-god laughed. 'Hah, hah, hah, hah, you would have had that blade deep within my flesh by now…you have forgotten your craft.' Heracles didn't even have his weapon drawn and resulted to punching the female warrior with a fist of metal, knocking her to the ground. 'Peace has been your downfall, Atalanta.' He reached down and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off her feet. 'But I foresee that you will die as you feared…alone…unloved. You will die not in peace, but in the red skies of war and violence.'

'…No…' she tried to say but felt oxygen escaping her body quickly. 'No…you're wrong, Heracles…I'm never alone… _We_ are never alone!'

Once again Heracles found himself staggering backwards. He roared in pain as large metal spikes appeared from the skies and smashed into the ground around him. Lightning reached out from those poles and seemed to holding the demi-god in restraint.

Atalanta stood before him, the son of Zeus, trying to catch her breath as a man in steel armour appeared from behind her, helping her to her feet. 'Are you alright, my friend?' asked the man.

'I'll be fine, Jason,' she assured. 'Nothing I couldn't fix with a walk or a few sword swings.'

But that was not all as they were soon joined by even more people, men and women, humans and monsters alike. Heracles looked on in rage at his helplessness, looking at the familiar faces come to jeer at him. The Argonauts had arrived.

Queen Hippolyta came in to join them. Her army had managed to dispatch some of Heracles' men whom retreated at the defeat of their master. Pushing them back to the ocean where they vanished. Some were to be kept as prisoners for insurance.

She found herself suddenly star-struck with giddy nervousness. All of her heroes before her in the flesh seemed unbelievable. Finding Atalanta was jaw dropping already. But now she was in the presence of Perseus, Medea, Theseus and even the Minotaur himself Asterion stood taller than everyone.

Jason approached the still lightning shocked demi-god, his own sword drawn. 'In the name of your father, Zeus, Lord of Olympus, you are sentenced to Limbo.' He then turned to Castor Medea. 'My love,' he greeted, 'the medallion if you will.'

The sorceress took out a small purple coin from her satchel and gave it to her husband before standing back. They all took a moment to process what they were about to do. It was particularly hard for Jason whom had been trained by Heracles, had confided in him like a son to his father.

Heracles growled and barked at him, struggling against the magical confines that had also started burning him. 'You believe you have won, Atalanta!' he cried. 'You have won nothing! Limbo will never hold me…I will escape even if it is only to drag you all back with me!'

Jason tried to ignore it, the tears that were threatening to appear. He took a deep breath in and entered the lightning. Both men growled in pain as the leader of the Argonauts placed the coin atop Heracles' head, muttering an incantation. Then he forced the mouth of the god's son wide open, placed the coin under his tongue and once he forced the jaw closed again, Heracles shrieked, struggling with all of his strength, slowly diminishing into numbness.

He felt so much pain but soon it ended and then finally there was silence. The body of Heracles turned to stone, stuck in the kneeling position the restraints had forced upon the greatest hero that ever lived.

They all stood, heads lowered in respect to the passing. Hippolyta approached the statue with uneasy caution. How could such a god among men be driven to the dirt like this? Heracles, Son of Zeus. The man that defeated the Nemean Lion, outsmarted a Titan and saved a nation, now he was there, captured in stone around a sea of blood. When she turned to see the mourning people around her, she knew that it was settled. Hera, the jealous deity had come up victorious.

It was over…

— **=W=—**

 **Author's Note: I've always rather admired Wonder Woman for what she stood for. Inspiration for female empowerment that if I'm honest, did a better job than some feminists I see. I know I'm treading on thin ice here.**

 **I'm quite excited to see her in Batman v Superman and her own stand-alone film. It's a long time coming and I hope they will be phenomenal movies, and phenomenal Wonder Woman in Gal Gadot.**

 **The setting here I thought more appropriate to begin in a state of war and destruction. I find that people never quite get some of the spirit of Wonder Woman. I saw a bit of the pilot for Joss Whedon's Wonder Woman TV series and found it painful to watch. It was missing this atmosphere of war. I don't know, maybe it's just me.**

 **Please, judge me gently. This is far from the start of Diana's journey, merely a prelude I thought was necessary, and really, I often have trouble trying to get into the mind of the opposite sex.**


	2. Prologue

— **PROLOGUE—**

 _ **NINETEEN YEARS LATER…**_

What are we but flesh and bone, to claim such divinity as gods?

What gives us the right to take destiny, to take what does not belong to us, to rage war after war against each other and leave this world in ashes to the wind of Gaia's last breath?

I walked through dark and narrow corridors, a ball of blue energy to light my way forward. Simple magic, basic, a ball of contained energy from the sun I had gathered before entering the catacombs. Something I picked up on my travels in search of meaning.

I believed that the gods had given everyone purpose, a reason to draw breath every single day. But what was mine? One of many questions I had tried in vain to discover. I know not. Is it written in stone? If so why won't it be revealed to me?

The gods like to keep their secrets. They keep us mortals wandering to and fro, confused, walking naked in the dark like I was. Perhaps not naked…I had on a loose fitting dress of violet with golden embroidery upon the sleeves and armour that protected my left arm. Not a bad look for a woman of Hellas, especially one tailored for battle.

I see on the walls decorating the path, carved images depicting the reign of the Titans. As I walked, the story began to change into one of the battle between the Ancient Titans and the New Olympians, Hades, Poseidon, Demeter, Hera and the youngest who led them, Mighty Zeus.

She'd heard the story before, many times, some of them even by those who fought in it.

Cronos, King of Time and Space, imprisoned his sons and daughters, all except one—Zeus, whom grew and trained until he was strong enough to challenge the Titans. He freed his brothers and sisters and fought their rulers until Cronos himself had no other choice but to yield to his youngest son's thunder. Cronos and the Titans, immortals, were imprisoned in Tartarus, forever to be held in darkness and misery while Hades, the oldest, was forced to share that fate as gatekeeper.

I stopped at a dead end, a wall blocking the path, engraved with Zeus raining down a shower of lightning from the heavens. A work of art I have rarely seen in these times. My father taught me as a girl to appreciate the craftsmanship of all fields especially if it conveyed a message of peace.

…this was beautiful, but it was a message of pride, of power. I inhaled and pushed the ball of light with all of my strength. The wall shattered clear and once it settled, I walked through and found myself away from enclosed tunnels and into the open space of a domed room as big as the Isle of Ithaca. The only source of light streamed from above, an oculus at the centre of the dome. Where it led I could not tell.

Now let me tell you another story. There was once a Spartan, a people known for producing the best and most ruthless warriors in history. This one Spartan was a fierce warrior, a leader, a legend, and like his brethren, they lived for the fight, they worshipped war. This Spartan was never defeated in battle but with every victory came a bloodlust insatiable by even the pure waters of Olympus. But soon he would meet his destiny in one fight against the barbarians of the east. He was losing, to the point of desperation he called out to Ares the God of War.

'Give me the strength to defeat my enemies and you shall have what you will of me!'

The God of War accepted his prayer, giving him two blades of chaotic magic and he defeated the barbarians.

For a time, he served Ares well. He raided surrounding villages and cities. While the rest of Hellas focused on expanding, settling in other nation states, The Spartan conquered his countrymen, spreading chaos and death in the name of the God of War.

However, the bloodlust of Man would leave him blind and in a fit of anger and rage, he murdered his own wife and daughter. It is said that their ashes cover his skin, a reminder of his sins.

So began the Legend of the Ghost…the new God of War, the man who brought Olympus to his knees…in the most brutal of ways.

I observed him, his brutality. He crushed an innocent young slave woman simply for being property of Poseidon…such animalistic…controllable tendencies.

'You know,' a voice boomed behind me. 'I don't like being summoned like a dog, girl.' It was him…the Ghost of Sparta. But he was crawling on the ground, a huge sword through his gut and a trail of blood behind him.

'Well it looks to me like that is exactly what you are, Spartan.' He smelt like it…the stench of a god in his veins. A Son of Zeus? And now he's killed them all.

'Are you one of them?' he asked, searching through her eyes for his answer. 'Are you of Olympus?'

I laughed. It is true what they say in legend—the hatred of the Spartan Ghost was far beyond extinguishable. 'That is something we have in common,' I told him, crouching down before him as he struggles on his arms for support. 'Our hatred for the gods of Mount Olympus, something we can work with.'

'I have grown tired of games and riddles,' the Spartan responded. 'Now speak plainly!'

A little affronted I stood up. Offended but not surprised. Citizens of Sparta were not particularly known for their manners. I took my hand inches from my face and whispered a fire to appear on my palm. 'God of War, I will heal you, not just of that fatal wound but free you of your haunted memories.'

The Spartan scowled, anger building up, I could tell. 'Name your price, child.'

I smiled at him, his willingness to survive at any cost. Were it not for the nature of her intentions, The Spartan would be making the exact same mistakes again. 'When you are healed, I will chase death from your destiny. You will not age, you will not die of the passage of time, nor will anything bring that about. In exchange I want your assistance in ruling.'

'Ruling what?'

'Everything.'

I touch the blade embedded in his chest. Slowly I shift it, just enough for him to feel it. He roars out in pain, clearly it is the first time feeling such a negative sensation.

'Do we have an accord, Ghost of Sparta?'

Reluctantly, the Spartan nodded and I was compelled to release him of the blade and its wounds. I drew a line of fire around him and one painful jolt sent his soul, one that was chased by death, into the flames.

I see his eyes lifted of fog, like he could see the world in a new light, one that brought even the Ghost of Sparta a smile.

He follows me to the centre of the room where lies a box about the size of a child's sarcophagus. It was the original ark which contained the evils that plague humanity now. The very nature of that seemed lost on her, a logic that prevented her mind access to its fields. A gaze of familiarity crosses the Spartan's marked and ashen face. 'Have you seen this box before?'

He said nothing in response. I took that as a resounding yes. Not a talkative man, this Spartan, but when he did…he was loud.

'It was a gift, more a responsibility that my father entrusted to me,' I told him. 'But I was curious…I opened it the first time.'

'So have I,' he said finally. 'Let's not waste time with it if it does not adhere to our quest. It is nothing but a cursed trinket—a remnant of Zeus!'

I ignored him, approaching the box, caressing its golden lid. 'This is more than that, more than Olympus. This is my birthright.'

That was when a shining light appeared around the Ark and the Spartan tackled me to the ground. More beams descended from the oculus and there stood a giant, as hulking as the Spartan, only he wore black plated armour and a scythe in his hand.

'Hades,' the Spartan spat. 'I thought I had damned you to oblivion.'

'Then you understand nothing, Spartan.' It was not Hades though that answered this time. I saw on my right a figure, limping out from the light on an artificial left leg made of gold. 'Rage does that.'

'Good evening, father.'

Hephaestus drew out a large hammer. 'That's enough, Pandora.'

'You don't seem very proud of me, father. Have I not achieved the clarity of the world you so desired of me?'

'I said enough,' the Smith God exclaimed. 'You know what's in the Ark of Life, you know what's at stake.'

I chuckled, more to myself…my old self. Father believes me to be arrogant, ill informed, brash even, but I know things, I've seen things even the Outcast Gods have never dreamed of. They are the ill-informed ones. My father, Lord Hades, and from the look of the room, now we were being joined by the rest of them outcasts. Thoth and Hathor, the Kemetian Gods, Hathor even brought her husband Horus. I could spot the Northern God Loki with his book of spells. 'Humanity is sick…it is not worthy of the contents of that box.'

'Then that is where our philosophies differ, little one.' Hades stepped down from the ark.

'Enough talk!' the Spartan stepped in front of me and spurted forward, smashing Hades in the head. The rest of them pounced onto the God of War, trying to restrain him.

Hades regained his footing and brought the scythe to the Spartan's throat. Posed to finish the job, a force stayed his blade— _my_ force. From my hands, a ball of energy moving at such a fast and heated rate that the wavelengths were showing. I sent the ball hurtling at the God of Darkness, he blocked it with his own magic but it had given the Spartan Ghost the time he needed to break free of his captors where he then pushed them away except Thoth.

The Egyptian god was sadly not fast enough and the God of War, my new ally, grabbed hold of the Scribe's head, the storehouse of his knowledge and with his thumbs on Thoth's eyes, slowly started to press.

I used a binding spell to incapacitate Hephaestus and the others, temporarily of course. All the while, Thoth's screams filled my ears, enhanced by the vastness of the closed space. I have to admit, a little tear appeared on my cheek, followed by a reaffirming grin on my mouth.

He screamed, and screamed while his colleagues looked on in helplessness as The Hellan God of War squeezed the mighty head of an Egyptian deity until finally, it exploded into a firework of blood and gore. I could see that look on War's face. Relief. Like he was in ecstasy, like he'd just been with a woman and had just climaxed.

I turned to my father rather coyly. 'Do you see now, Papa?' I started. 'It is now _my_ will that matters in this world. It is _my_ will that defines even a god's life, not Olympus, not the Eternal Sky… _ **me**_!'

I approached him, cautiously of course. He looked so pathetic, a mere shadow of the man I once saw and looked up to. And it was all because of _them_.

The Spartan discarded the headless body of Thoth onto the stone ground, his hands still clutching at his blades that were chained to his arms, now drenched in shining red blood, a god's blood. 'Is there no one else?!'

Hades looked uncertain, but then from the corner of my eyes I see Loki nod. I should have seen it coming. A light descended from the oculus and onto the box. Hades pushed the Spartan and his scythe sliced off his left hand. The others ran to the light and I would have followed but Loki created a barrier around me to prevent movement and in a blink of an eye, my ark was gone. My heart shattered.

They all disappeared along with my box. My father was the only one left and for a moment it was just us. The family was almost complete. 'I hate you,' I spat at him, I used to love him. He taught me everything there was to know about the world…well almost.

Despite everything though, he smiled at me. 'Hate's not really me, is it?'

But soon he too walked into the light and it was only me left. The light was gone and so too the barrier, it now just me and a groaning god. He mourned the loss of his hand but after a brief moment of disbelief, he stood up straight and a darkness fell across his rage-filled face.

Defeated, I walked out of the temple under Mt Etna. A single strip of lightning stretched across the clear blue sky and for a moment I thought Zeus had lived. But the feeling was not present in my heart. I am quite well connected to Olympus, and Olympus was well connected to Zeus.

Mount Olympus was no more, but I could feel something else in my core. Another demigod was born. I gritted my teeth at the thought. The Spartan Ghost joined me, and as he stood there blood dripping from his open wound. He asks me what the plan was.

I see a great sickness in this world, one that I have noticed even before either I or the Spartan ever opened the box which released those curses. Mortal man, doomed to short and pointless lives, condemned to the fires of the Underworld in death.

What I see is their nature, one written in fire, death, destruction, misery. Humankind is a sickness, poisoning Gaia with their ideals. I once mourned for them, I once cried for their dead, prayed for their future and searched for their promise as my father had always taught me. He called them better than the gods, after all, it was the gods that cast him out for being different, for being deformed, but it was the mortals, the nymphs and a human town that took him in and cared for him.

This fact clouded his vision to their true identity—weeds in a garden, worms on a rotting corpse, a sign of the world's end.

My mother saw this too, but her solution was distance, turn the cheek and let them bury themselves…

No, I cannot do that…there is only one solution… I look at the dead and headless corpse of the Kemetian god, The Spartan standing above it. This world of Man, it needs a woman to dominate it.

With the box fragment in my hands, I tell the Spartan to follow. Beyond this temple is a wide and dangerous world full of opportunities. And it is all mine…

'Come, Spartan,' my eyes started to burn and I hear the Spartan Ghost roar out in pain. I'm not a fool, I know animals, I know they need to be controlled. Plus I don't really feel so comfortable being around a man who murdered gods, without a leash. 'We have work to do.'

 **-=W=-**

In the middle of the ocean lay an island paradise, hidden from the prying eyes of Man…well, except a handful. Only a few months prior a man from Atlantis had arrived to drop off his only daughter. Tears and sobs were shared between father and child. He knew he would never see her again, for he would soon go into battle…for a king as mad as the gods he serves.

Hippolyta had personally seen to his daughter, making her feel more at home. When he told her all of these details…as much as she was weary of the evils of Man, a _Father_ was a completely different animal altogether.

The air at this time of the night was usually quiet, but that night was filled with cries and worries. All of Themyscira gathered around the birthing temple. 'It's alright, My Queen, only a little more, push.'

Their queen, leader, warrior, their inspiration was in labour. Six midwives surrounded her, trying to help her bring new life into the world.

At the door of her chamber, a man stood watch, hooded, standing on the limp of a disfigured left leg that he had tried to aid by use of a metal leg brace. He watched her with stern eyes. The reports told him that nine months and ten days earlier, Zeus had descended from his throne without announcing to Hermes. That night on this island, witnesses noticed silent lightning in the sky.

He looked up in the sky, wondering if the Great King of Mount Olympus could see him. 'You really have taken everything away from me.'

Then…finally…with one last, agonising cry, one painful push, a child was born. 'Your Grace, it is a girl,' sighed one of her midwives tearfully. 'You have a daughter, My Queen.'

Exhausted the queen leaned to look and the midwife gently handed her the babe.

She was such a little thing…so small, so vulnerable. Hippolyta believed that she would remain baron after her previous daughter's betrayal. As she hugged her new child she felt it, that wave of…something, entering her body, empowering her heart, her sense of hope. She saw it, in her baby's eyes…a hope for the future.

She paused though, when she spotted Hephaestus at the door among her Amazon citizens. She felt a tear drop at her lover's stern demeanour. _Please don't hate me…_

The God of the Craft smiled at her. A little too small for her liking but she understood the reason it was hard for him. She was a warrior, she didn't hurt easy…but Hephaestus…he was a soul. A soul that had been ripped apart since his very first breath and now he was tearing apart once more…by the same people.

She smiled back, hers genuine as she showed him her daughter. They spoke, Hephaestus and her, soundlessly, their mouths making the motions but nothing came out, not even a whisper. Yet they both knew what the other was saying. " _Do you have a name for her?_ " She had asked.

He thought for a while, looking up at Olympus, at the gods that hated him so much for existing the way he did, disfigured and lame... " _Diana_ " was his reply. " _Call her Diana._ "

What a joyous day for her. The Amazonian Queen doted on her child with a loving smile, and a mother's eyes filled with promise. 'I love you Diana, my little starry sky.'

But when she looked up again, the god had vanished.

…She might never see him again….

— **W—**

 **Author's Note:**

 **Ciao guys. This one is a prologue, I'm sure there is a distinction between a prelude and a prologue, I know Brandon Sanderson's Stromlight Archives has some. As you might have guessed, I am not a fan of Kratos from the God of War series. I hated that series and the only reason I played through them was to find anything about them that were redeemable. I mean, I had to kill off so many of my favourite characters in Greek Myth. Perseus is my favourite hero and Hephaestus and Hades are actually my all-time favourite gods. It was sort of like the Star Wars: Force Unleashed Ultimate Sith Edition when I had to brutally kill off Obi-Wan, Luke, Leia, Han and even Chewie!**


	3. Princess

**DISCLAIMER: All Rights and Ownership of the characters included in this piece of Fan Fiction, are reserved by DC Comics Distribution.**

 **WARNING!**

 **THIS Fic is Rated M for its use of NUDITY and SEX SCENES in later chapters as well as immense VIOLANCE and ADULT THEMES all throughout.**

* * *

 **-=O=-**

— _ **WONDER**_ **o** _ **WOMAN**_ **—**

 **Wrath of War**

 **-=O=-**

* * *

— **I—**

* * *

 **THE PRINCESS**

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: THEMYSCIRA**_

Two swords clashed together under the hot, blistering sun. Both warriors offering their hand in combat though right now, Atalanta had the upper hand, striking at her with lightning speed while Diana tried her best to dodge her blade.

'Oh, come on, Princess. You're going to have to do better than that.'

Diana tried to ignore her taunts, trying to keep her focus. She let Atalanta's thrusted sword pass by, just missing her cheek, getting to the other side of her, Diana swung but the older warrior swung her own to counter it. Her naked body made it easier to dodge and move.

As warriors even in training, Diana was taught to look at things in a basic view first. The two opponents free from the security of armour, or even clothes for that matter, all except a leather belt over the chest just above the nipples to stop their breasts from interfering with performance.

'Come on, Diana. You're not giving me your all here,' Atalanta managed to elbow her opponent off her feet. 'Or frightening still, you actually are.'

Her feet were hurting now, bare to the stone arena. Nevertheless, Diana really wanted to wipe that coy smile off of her mentor's face. 'Yeah, keep talking, old hag.'

Atalanta chuckled, 'Oh, okay, resulting to name-calling, that's a real low, Your-Grace.' She then struck the princess with the hilt of her short sword, knocking her to the ground again. She then took a bow, further mocking her defeated opponent.

A little bit aggravated, Diana dove out with her sword arm outstretched. Atalanta diverted the attack and with her own sword face side, pushed Diana forward across the stone court. Diana realised a new strategy was needed. She adjusted her hold on her sword, focusing her strength in one point of her arm while leaving her hands a little looser. Atalanta's power dwelled in her hands, always telling her that her weapon had to be an extension of her arm.

She would die before she ever let her grip falter…Diana could use that.

'Have my lessons gone unnoticed by you, princess?' The older woman smirked as she struck the air at several locations. 'Focus, Diana, focus.'

Diana then lunged at her under the right arm. Atalanta managed to disarm her, taking her blade. But that was what the princess wanted. Two blades in Atalanta's hands but none in her favour as Diana stepped almost seamlessly around her opponent, now she was behind her, her hands captured both of Atalanta's arms and managed to lock her blades together. Next thing Atalanta knew, she had to blades at her throat and her hands were strangely locked together.

'How was that, kýrios?' Diana grinned.

'Not bad, korê,' Atalanta unlocked herself from the lock. 'Not bad at all.' She put a hand on Diana's shoulder, looking at her with a semblance of pride.

— **=W=—**

In the Temple of Fate, Hippolyta sat by the Seeing-Pool, twirling the water within as she watched the golden threads swimming delicately around. An anxious look plastered upon the queen's face. Ever since she closed her island from the rest of Man's World, her heart should have been at ease—her daughter was safe. But despite all of this, she felt less secure now.

Her heart was quite jumpy lately. Something was not right. She felt it in her bones. Even though her world was no longer a part of the rest, she felt as connected to it and it scared her— so much pain, death and destruction.

'You are troubled, My Queen.'

Hippolyta jumped at Atalanta's appearance, suddenly snapped out of her trance. 'I hear them, Atalanta, I hear their screams as they burned. I don't know what's going on out there.'

'Seems to me like that's a good thing.' The warrior sat by the pool beside her, looking into the pool but seeing nothing. 'Seriously though, I've completely lost track of time here. Who knows what the world has come to in the hands of men?'

'I do and it leaves me with nightmares.'

They let the moment die with silence as she watched her queen gaze full focussed into the waters, transfixed. 'Your daughter has grown into a fine woman, Hippolyta, a mighty warrior.'

The queen smiled. 'I saw you two training, she's getting better…maybe better than you, old friend.'

The aging warrior laughed hysterically. 'Over my dead body,' she chuckled and relieved herself of some of her armour, leaving only her sandals. 'But she has potential.'

 **\W/**

Diana lay on her back, slight moans escaping her as she felt Artemis' callous hands peeling away at her silk white dress.

'You seem a little bit distracted, princess,' the red haired woman cooed, trailing kisses down her neck, letting her hot breath caress her naked skin.

But Diana was somewhat distracted. Normally she would have surrendered to their passion for the evening, something to distract her for the night. It wouls everything some much needed lovemaking, but that night was different. She felt a tug in another direction and her heart seemed heavy. 'Hey, have you ever wondered what's out there?'

'Out where?' Artemis laughed absentmindedly as she travelled towards her hip and felt the princess shift at her touch.

'You know…out there…away from Themyscira,' she sighed, staring up at the ceiling of her lover's room. She clutched the side of the bed tightly. 'Have you ever wondered what was out there upon Gaia herself?'

'If you're talking about Man's World…I have to tell you…' the young warrior kissed her inner thigh, sending shock waves into Diana's core, 'that's a big turn-off.'

'It's just…' she tried to focus on her thoughts but Artemis' kisses and fondling started to dive deeper, even pushing her sensual tongue into play around her clitoris. 'I was at the Citadel Library and found a particular scroll a story of the time before the Great Flood…of two brothers that…'

'By the gods…Diana…a night before your name-day and you're already antsy.'

She would have shot back a counter, but In Aphrodite's Grace, Artemis was a master in the art of love-making and as such, Diana could feel her climax approaching. Artemis' masterful ministration of her royal womanhood was taking its toll and she held on for dear life. Her moans, climbing onto the very top as though counting down to her release.

The young Princess screamed out in ecstasy, finishing on the warrior's divine fingers. Yet looking at her now, Diana could tell she was dissatisfied. Artemis decided to let herself fall asleep, facing away from her lover while Diana was left on her back, just staring at the ceiling, alone with her questions. She smiled gleefully. Maybe the Smith could answer some of her questions?

The next day Diana left the palace bright and early. The sun was rising at its careful pace over the mountains. Sometime she'd go to the Well of Prophecy and watch it wake from the balcony. She loved that, the way the sun's colours seemed to change in the rise and settings, vibrant yet subtle. That day however, she'd settle for basking in its rays from the mountain top on the road.

She often liked Themyscira in the mornings when not many souls were awake. Despite this, it wasn't at all that serine. She could hear the clanging of steel echoing from the arena. It was probably Artemis, she guessed. She probably was not enough to satisfy the hardened warrior the night before, thus taking her frustrations out on the field. Cleo once joked that Artemis needed to swing her sword and stab things herself just to climax.

'What's wrong with that?' the feisty red head shot back at the young maid.

They probably should have told Cleo not to get on Artemis' bad side. Too late now though.

At Cassandra's place she bought hot bread from her mother and a handful of arrow heads from Arya's. From there she went to the stables where her pure white stallion awaited her every morning and rode off north. She passed several people on her way, giving out quick greetings and pushed on.

Themyscira was quite a magnificent city built running up a high mountain where they carved the top into a titanic statue of Athena holding up a plateau where rested the Temple complexes. One dedicated to Athena herself, one for Zeus and another temple, relatively smaller one for the God of the Forge.

She rode past the entrance and into the jungle that border the city. On her way she passed the farm lands and pastures, the farmers were out by now, working as they do in the early morning. She could spot Hettia in the wheat fields. Diana waved for her attention and she waved back. Yes, it was peaceful here.

There was a valley off the dirt road where she found deer and other manner of animals exotic and familiar, like mammoths and lazy dragons. Diana hid her bow in a nearby tree for convenience. She tipped some of her arrows and ran off into the bushes. She managed to track down her prey. In an opening, she saw two groups of large cats prowling forward to meet each other in the middle.

There was anger in their eyes, a wild rage that surpassed basic instincts. The two parties clashed in wild clawing and slashing, all the while the princess watched from atop a tree branch.

' _War. For as long as there has been any form of collective thinking, there has been an inextinguishable desire for conflict._ ' She recalled one of her mother's lessons, so many years ago. ' _All life forms with a will of their own know this longing. The trick is not to fight against it, but to wrestle with it, and channel it to better use._ '

Presently, Diana looked on as the wild cats fought. She aimed her bow, not at any particular target, whispering to herself, 'All life forms need war.'

A stray mammal had fallen into the fray. A small marsupial, barely a week old, it was crying…one of the cats, rushed to it, its mouth wide open, its eyes crazed, and then it was crazed no more. Diana acted quickly and shut them just before it reached the babe.

The cats stopped, looking up they saw her and retreated into the darkness. Diana Took back her arrow and carried the babe herself, back to its family.

For the rest of the morning she would graze around the valley, watching the animals as they lived and played. She found it hard to see any war in the eyes of peaceful creatures. _Windows to the soul_. She often wondered if the rule of her kingdom were limited only to matters of state, or did they not consider the other creatures that called this island home, as part of them?

Next she abandoned the valley and ventured through the jungle with awe at the scope of the landscape. Hidden, yet, not isolated, she could hear the life buzzing around her. It always filled her with so much wonder every time she journeyed this far north of the island. It felt so different, she loved it.

This was not why she came though. There is a tree in the farthest north. She discovered it when she was a child, after losing her first sword battle to Cassandra at age eight. She ran as far as she could, sobbing into her arm as she ran.

Young Diana never even noticed it but where the roots shot out of the ground created an archway as tall as the giraffes she'd see in the fields.

Now, like she did back then, she touched the roots and through them found herself not in the tree, not even in the forest anymore, but a cave. Her face felt the sudden kiss of warm fire. She walked into a dimly lit cavern of stone and rock, followed a passageway down where she entered an even larger…no monumental pocket in what appeared to be a volcano.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a constant clanging of steel, amongst the piles of unfinished work and scrap metal and gold, she saw a man in a black apron hammering away at a strip of folded steel. He was towering and quite handsome if not for the large scar that claimed most of his face now. His left leg was of a bronze metal alloy he had told her was fashioned to help him walk. She knew better, it was an early attempt to find some solace in his own appearance in the face of the gods.

'Are you going to just stand there,' Diana was surprised, but not that much, he was perceptive, 'or are you going to help me out.'

Diana smiled and walked over to the other side of the pool of volcanic magma. Hephaestus placed the steel into the furnace where the Amazonian princess started to pump up oxygen for the fire.

He took the steel out and upon the black anvil, continued to hammer it into shape. 'So what are you working on?'

The smith looked at her for a moment, wiping her dirty hands on the elegant white dress she had on, staining them for sure. She sat upon the work bench as she watched. 'I am actually working on a piece of armour for your mother,' he claimed. 'It's for the ceremony in a few moon's time.'

'Oh, okay…'

He looked at her again, this time noting her spaced out look like she was somewhere else. He stopped his hammering to look at his progress. It wasn't folded steel, it was a piece of platinum alloy he found quite strong, in fact it was very strong. He started to bend the sheets over the horn of the anvil.

'If you want to talk about anything, you could, you know,' he offered, eyes still glued on the work. 'Just talking _at_ me is fine.'

She smiled uncomfortably embarrassed but complied. 'Have you seen it, anything outside this mountain?'

'You know I have,' he answered. 'I have followers in the towns, we confide in each other about the crafts and inspire in the other our next projects.'

'How long ago was that?'

He chuckled lowly. Loaded question, but he indulged her as always. 'Close to four thousand years ago, I believe.'

'Hmph…okay.' Now this was odd. Hippolyta's child did not press the matter further but receded into her own mind again.

'Okay, what's wrong, Di?'

The princess shrugged. 'Nothing…nothing's wrong.'

The deity was not convinced at all. 'You're not a particularly good liar, princess.' She sighed, masking her embarrassment under an awkward smile. 'That's a good thing, Diana.'

The Amazonian shrugged. 'I'm just wondering if there's more to this than Amazonian life. I feel like there's something I'm missing on Themyscira.'

'Well I am told that youths your age have the whole world at your feet. Or is that no longer a thing anymore?'

Diana stared out passed him, looking at a giant orb behind him. A globe with lines and islands engraved on it. She was always looking at it, much to the Crafting God's pride. But then that fire was extinguished in her eyes. 'I don't think so,' she croaked and started to examine the many weapons he had previously finished.

To bring her spirits up again, Hephaestus got her to bring him an item from the chest beside the globe, wrapped around a piece of cloth.

'What's this?'

Hephaestus smirked as he unravelled it, revealing the weapon. 'It's a sword, you know…you kill things with it,' he said in playful sarcasm. He then presented the sword to the fascinated woman.

'Is it mine?' she inquired hopefully and slid the blade from the scabbard. It was a beautiful sword. The pummel was a work of art in and of itself, carved into the shape of an eagle with its wings outstretched as guards. What seemed peculiar for the princess of the Amazons was the blade. It looked like it was forged of two different ores. She asked the artist of that fact.

'It's a very interesting story,' was his only commentary on it. 'Think of it like this, Diana,' he had her flip the sword onto one side which was crimson, as red as blood and sparkling knowingly like it was teasing her. On the other face, had a white platinum shine to it, things were brighter with it. 'With anything, it exists in a state of neutrality, it may not have started off that way, designed to end lives, but even so, for what reason is held in the middle of morality. It's a reminder that even with the absolute of this sword, its destiny lies in the arm that wielded it.'

'I see the war and fighting aspect of this, but what about the other side of the spectrum?'

The Smithing God shrugged, 'To find out…wouldn't that be an awfully big adventure.' He gave it back to her, 'You could use it in the arena fight today.'

She looked at him incredulously. 'Hephaestus, the arena uses blunted weapons and I'm the princess, I don't really participate in the fights…'

'Oh…okay… I guess you probably won't be needing this,' he took the sword from her grasp but before he could move to return it to the desk the raven haired girl snatched it back.

'No, no, no, I still need it I…' oh she was lucky that it was Hephaestus she was talking to otherwise she'd have died of embarrassment right about now.

The god only smiled at her, placing his hands over her clutched ones and planting a warm kiss on her forehead. 'Consider it a Name-day gift.'

She jumped onto him, hugging him tightly while continuously repeating, 'Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!' She leapt back down, admiring the sword again with a giddy smile wide upon her youthful face which made her incredibly younger again. It was like she was a nine year-old again. She was surprised that she could feel tears appearing and tried to hide it as best as she could. 'I'm…I'm serious, sir, thank you so much for this.' She then saw markings close to the hilt the word in Atlantean, " _Decide_ ", then the eagle sculpture—the emblem of the Western Amazonian Tribes. 'It means a lot to me.'

That was the thing about Hephaestus. To Diana, he was more than just a friend who understood her quite well. He felt like a father to her, giving her small pieces of advice the way he did, always making sure she knew he cared about her health and wellbeing, and sometimes making sure his carefulness was as discrete as possible. She could not picture a life without him.

'Need any more help around here?' she asked, already picking up some tongs clasping a piece of glowing metal.

He smiled at her, lost in thought. He soon returned to her by the slight pain he felt on his metallic foot. He thought it beyond strange, considering he'd lost all feeling in most of his body especially there. Again Hephaestus glanced at Hippolyta's daughter and took the metal from her grasp, 'Prime up the smelter, why don't ya, princess.'

 **\W/**

 _ **Many Years Ago...**_

In the early morning, Queen Hippolyta walked up to the Temple of Athena atop the mountain. She lit the incense and prayed to whatever gods were left on Mt Olympus. Most of her sisters often asked her why, they all knew that Olympus was nothing more than a deserted ruin now. But she was hopeful. Athena was no more, Aphrodite, Demeter, Persephonē, Artemis of the Hunt, they were all gone. The rest she did not know where they had gone. She recalled their last meeting at the Palace of War situated right next to them.

She remembered the Round Table Council, convened with the Illuminati Brethren of Hades, Loki, Hathor as well as the Argonauts like Jason whom had settled down with Medea. The Minotaur Asterion had become the new King of Crete, ruling his island kingdom wisely I was told, leading it to become one of the most richest and most important trading stops in Hellas.

Perseus was there too, having accepted his duty as Ruler of Mycenae he arrived on his reclaimed Pegasus. There was a child there too, she didn't know who that was with Hephaestus. She thought or hoped against her inner desires that she was a child of his.

Hades informed them that Thoth, the God of Knowledge from Kemet, was killed. He was killed by the same being that went on a murder spree against everybody that held a connection to the Olympian Gods. A light appeared on the table and a three dimensional image of the Spartan Ghost was shown. He looked menacing, even the Amazonian leaders gasped.

Then, another bomb was dropped and another image materialised. A young woman… 'Pandora,' the Amazonian Queen muttered in surprise and terror.

'She has allied herself with the Ghost, trying to reopen the _Pithos_ ,' Hades announced to which the entire chamber burst in outrage.

'Did they get it?'

Hephaestus shook his head but refused to look at her directly, Hippolyta already had inkling as to why. 'We intersected them before she could open it, we were able to teleport it somewhere safe.'

'We thought the Ancient Vaults were safe!' Seraphim of the Eastern Amazonian Tribe interjected.

It was Loki's turn to answer her, seeing as he was the one that hid it, seemed reasonable. 'It's difficult to explain, but where we have hidden it, will be very, very difficult to try and retrieve it again, even by us.'

'And it must remain that way,' Hades concluded. She agreed, they all agreed. Hephaestus' child must never get her hands on the _Pithos_ , but at the same time, they reached a consensus that she was also not to be hunted. They opted instead to hide the remaining gods, for each divine soul he kills, gives him power…but also etches away at his own soul, until he becomes nothing but an animal. A mindless creature with the powers of the gods…that was something they were praying never to see.

On regards to the Ghost, Hippolyta hesitated. Above anything, she wanted to see this man…this beast dead. Hathor cautioned her against it, the little girl with her, was a prophet, she warned her of something darker beyond even the gods.

So they hid…

They hid for forever…

 **-=O=-**

 **-=W=-**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: God did I feel self-conscious about starting this. I knew it had to be done though, and I knew I really wanted a story like this, haven't read the Brian Azzarello's run on her or even Grant Morrison's Earth One series but I've heard nothing but good out of them all.**

 **I reckon I did a good job, maybe not the best but as good as I could. So I did Diana justice or am on the right path and hope you guys enjoy this.**


	4. Flight

— **II—**

* * *

 **FLIGHT PLAN**

* * *

 _ **LOCATION:**_

 _ **36'25''N 25'26''E**_

What happens to the world, when it's left in the dark? What happens when its people are left so vulnerable, that in an hour of desperation, we allow fear and hatred to envelope us. This world, was reeling in from the Great Depression, a downfall in the economic landscape. While the world dealt with their own problems, they were blind to the rise of war.

On September 1st 1939 AD, Germany invaded Poland, and the first domino fell. The world was a gigantic canvas of blood and death—but who held the brush?

Saturday, January 3rd 1945 AD—Rain poured down hard upon them. Mud stained his boots as he trudged on with great care that was waning thin after a long journey by boat. He was following behind eight others, _watching their six_ , in their terms. He clutched his M1 Carbine closer to his chest, he was nervous beyond normality. It was his first mission abroad, to say he was nervous and apprehensive would be the understatement of the century.

Despite this, Steve was just dripping with excitement—a contradiction he knew, but alas it was how he felt. Nearly four years he'd been waiting to go join the war, and the years before, spent just hearing about the efforts, he knew his dad was rather pissed off. He was born and raised in England, came to America after the first war, now there was another one and the United States weren't even interested in helping.

They got to a ledge and crouched down behind a boulder. Their captain raised his hand to them and the man next to him handed him a pair of binoculars. 'What do you see, Mustafa?' he asked.

He turned to his men, passed his right hand man and toward the back where the rookie sat waiting, anxiety plain on his young face. 'Come here, Mr Trevor, I need you to see something.'

Steve timidly did as he was told, sliding down the line until he was shoulder to shoulder to the captain. Compared to him, Hafiz Mustafa was a hulk of a man. Powerful, demanding presence and a growling voice to match. He was in a group of nine men. Hafiz was their captain; a Palestinian man who immigrated to England after the First War, before that he was part of some sort of Special Unit for the now dissolved Ottoman Empire.

Sergeant John Matthews was their demolitions expert. His story was that they found him rotting away in a Turkish prison the year prior. An Australian with a reputation for either setting things on fire, blowing them up or…basically he had a talent for breaking things.

Next to Matthews was Lorenzo Vespucci, an Italian Historian that defected from the Axes and came in with rather unsettling information. Beside him was an Indian woman who seemed not to like talking that much, not even to tell them her name. As such, Lorenzo has gone on to calling her Vatu, seeing as in Sanskrit it meant silent or calm, doting on the fact that she was essentially an assassin—enacting swift and silent kills from the shadows. Steve hasn't personally sampled her skills as of yet, but stories go around here and there at the agency.

Among the group was also a Swede named Joshua Skarsgard and like Vatu, he was a killer, though he was a man that liked to talk, not much but…well on a normal well-adjusted level, considering he'd spent the majority of the last war, watching his family tortured by Serbians.

Sir Galen Blake was your run of the mill posh English guy, knighted by the King, proper table manners…and the best shot in their military, placing him just above Aaron Candy, another marksman from the Caribbean.

Then there was Hafiz Mustafa's second in command. Colonel Rick Flag, a fellow American that like him was plucked out of the army for this little band here.

Steve looked through the lenses. 'What's going on there?' he asked their leader. It was Rick that answered him though.

'British Intelligence intercepted a Nazi transmission code sequence a few years back,' he said. 'It gave us an advantage so to make sure that Hitler won't change it, they kept it a secret. With this intelligence, we were able to decipher almost every transmission we intercepted.'

Then Hafiz finished off, 'Hitler gave a thumbs-up to an airplane project, testing fighters and weapons that might be disastrous in the end.'

Down below, a small battalion of German soldiers, elites, all gathered in front of two figures elevated atop a stone stage, around a court of ancient Greek columns. A hooded figure, small yet the mystery that surrounded them was magnetic. Steve could see in the individual faces that looked up to them, monotonous faces looking with ready compliance.

The second one was less mysterious. A huge man, towering in stature, full Nazi uniform and while he had his arms tucked behind him with his back straight, there was a savagery to him that could not escape Steve's notice. He was as white as snow, almost ashen, but with red markings, tattoos on his face. Even his shaven head was menacing as he addressed the other soldiers.

Behind them all was some sort of craft, Steve supplied it was an aircraft. 'Looks so different though,' Rick pointed out. 'It's edgy, looks more like a spaceship for aliens,' he said with laughter.

'Be serious, Flag,' Mustafa gritted, taking the binoculars from the young Trevor. 'If Hitler believes it important then we need to treat it thus. That could be our objective right there.'

'Sir, I've never seen an aircraft like that, it hardly looks operational,' Steve Trevor pointed down at the ship. 'Its wingspan is too short for take-off.'

'Plus, how is that thing going to go anyway,' Aaron also pointed out. Santorini was a rather small island, and rocky too, not a lot of open and flat surfaces for a successful take off for a plane. Most of them found it a strange place, to hold an aircraft test. 'Vespucci, what could you tell us about this place? Why here?'

The Italian shrugged. 'Honestly, it beats the shit out of me. Though I hear talk that Hitler believes this place ground zero for what's left of an advanced race that ties to Germans.'

'What do you mean?' Trevor then asked, intrigued.

'Well according to them, this place might hold the key to the legitimacy of the German's claim as master race on Earth. The Aryan Race…'

'Poppy-cock,' Sir Blake had remarked. 'Anything Hitler claims is just a bunch of bull to rule the world, and truth be told, everybody wants to rule the world.'

Back to the two strange people on the stage, Steve eyed Mustafa closely, his eyes glued to the mysterious figure. She then revealed herself…yes, it was a woman under that hood, which also hid her short and violet hair. Mustafa definitely knew who she was—his eyes had shrunk in suspicion. 'Who is she?'

But the commander remained silent, dead silent. His eyes, glued to this mysterious woman like she were hideous monster. 'She's Hitler's favourite little secret. Whatever we'll be doing down there, kid, don't let her see you and if she does…don't let her speak.'

Steve looked at the woman. He believed he saw a file on her back at HQ. Strange young woman, but stranger still was that she was Hitler's favourite military leader. She didn't seem very special. But her bodyguard was impressive. Like a giant, a bloody beast. 'That guy's bizarre,' he muttered.

'Don't underestimate the woman, Mr Trevor,' Mr Mustafa advised. His stare was quite concerning, like he knew them before, firsthand experience maybe.

The aircraft itself, if it even was an aircraft, was even more bizarre. Black metallic shell, quite flatter than ordinary planes, but there was only one of them. Was this their only weapon?

Steve looked to their commanding officer with wide eyes, 'Is that why we're here, sir?'

He smiled at the young lad and produced a weapon. 'That's why we're here, Trevor.'

'So we're going to destroy it?'

Hafiz shook his head. 'Nope…we're going to fly it outta here.'

 **-=\/=-**

She was known as the God of War, or Lady Valkyrie by the Germans that she commanded. She stood on the platform, back straightened, hands behind her back and head raised to them. 'We're almost there, Spartan,' she murmured.

Her hulking servant merely sneered. 'I see no point in continuing the search for the Box. You have an entire nation behind you now, their Fuhrer is wrapped around your—'

'Hitler is nothing but a bitter little boy who's never been accepted in anything.' She looked on at her men. They were so fragile, so weak. 'No, I don't see him fulfilling his dream in world domination. His weak, pathetic ideas are his undoing.'

The brute only grunted, his stance straightened, his firm and eternally rueful eyes examined the troops.

'No, I need the power that box offers me.' Satisfied, she dismissed her soldiers who scattered into their base. She'd seen the comings and goings of great dynasties, seen the world bow down to one deity or another, the rise and fall of empires. Now here, the waving crimson flags, the golden standards, this was something that did not shock her in the slightest.

What did surprise her, however, was how such an imbecile could have ever achieved such feats. She had narrowed it down to his silver tongue and his trigger-happy will.

She went down to her tent, set up next to some ancient walls and columns in the Greek style. Inside, it looked more like a shrine than anything else. Her research into the occult for Heinrich Himmler had led her across the world digging up dozens of ancient artefacts from forgotten worlds—things that they thought had power in them.

They were useless trinkets, no power in them even back in antiquity. The young woman sat at her desk and began pouring through her journals. If her research had amounted to anything over the past few thousand years, was that no magic was perfect, even that of a god.

There were cracks in Hade's concealment magic and she'd spend lifetimes in search of them. When Hitler launched this little project to test a new aircraft as well as other prototype weapons, she personally requested overseeing it. Why?

She chose here, on this little spit of land to test out new technology, deadly technology, because this was where she'd calculated the crack to be.

On her side, she saw the new guns that Hitler wanted tested. Apparently they were automatic weapons, self-reloading mechanism made them quick and easy to operate. A few more rifles stood beside them that supposedly fired high intensity lasers. She'd believe it once she sees it in action. If she was going to find the box, she'd need an arsenal.

She moved out and towards a pavilion set up for her scientists and developers. 'My Lady,' one of her doctors saluted to her in German before returning back to work. She handed Pandora a prototype pistol…her own design.

She felt the weapon, its weight in her hand. She aimed it at a wooden target and open fire. When she had finished her clip, the target was left in ruined mess upon the floor. Once satisfied she handed the firearm back and proceeded to sample their new toys.

'Also, Lady Valkyrie,' another woman appeared, a tall and rather masculine woman with dark black hair, beautiful even for the lower left side of her face that was covered by a plastic mask the shade of her skin colour. She had been severely burnt once. The woman directed her attention to the desk in the corner. 'Scouts discovered this tablet amongst the ruins of an ancient structure—'

'I have no interest in that,' she responded quickly. 'Whatever you have to show me can wait for tomorrow.'

'But, Lady Valkyrie,' Elsa protested, 'Herr Himmler believes that the Aryan—'

Pandora groaned, annoyed and stopped her from speaking. 'Himmler is a fool,' she exclaimed to the entire tent. 'He believes that you Germans descended from Atlanteans?' It was pathetic. She waved her hands at her direction and suddenly she started choking herself. Then, as if an invisible force had grabbed her, she started to rise up. Pandora drew her closer, looking her in the eyes, raised above her. 'You are not of Atlantis,' she spoke airily. 'You cannot be.' Then she leaned in, her mouth now toucher her ear intimately. 'For I was there, and I saw Poseidon reclaim his kingdom, and hell rip them into their deaths,' she whispered. 'I saw their country washed away from this Earth.'

Pandora then released her from the magical grasp. Elsa struggled for breath and that was when Pandora spoke again to her, warning her further, not to question her again.

She then turned to the others. 'This goes to all of you. The enemy has had the upper hand these past few years and that is due in large by a lack of hard conviction and over dependence. Abandon any ideas of mysticism of lineage, we're here to improve upon our technologies of war. That is how we will dominate this world. In this battlefield…I am Fuhrer…'

As they then resumed their duties, Elsa shrivelled back into her study—perhaps she should safeguard the metal tablets for later. For Lady Valkyrie, she wasn't done with that stupid little girl yet.

'What was that about, Your Highness?' Elsa's eyes grew as large as baseballs. Pandora chuckled. 'You must relax, Princess Maru. I have known about your identity from our very first meeting in Berlin, princess.'

Elsa or "Maru" suddenly became even more defensive. She thought about reaching for her gun, secured in its holster but memory of that magic trick against her threw that idea out of the window. 'If my father, or my people had their way, I'd have stayed home, looked after the house. I'm not the type I don't think.'

Again, Pandora chuckled as the half-Japanese, half-Russian princess, confounded beyond belief sifted around a little. 'No, I don't believe you are as well.' The High Commanding Officer walked around the table, studying the stone tablets found on the island with no more than a trivial interest. 'Your files reveal a talent with poisons. After all, your intended was found with an as of yet unidentified toxin in his system. So you have a background in chemistry and pharmaceuticals. I believe that a better use for you than in Ahnenerbe.'

Once Lady Valkyrie was finished speaking Princess Maru was left completely speechless. She made to speak but again was interrupted.

Pandora was approached by one of her developers. This one was an old man that designed the jet plane that they came to test out. One of many soon to be powers to inhabit the sky front. She dismissed the petrified princess to give full attention to her inventor.

'Madame,' he saluted, handing her a file of their plane's latest fittings, 'we are all set to begin aerial testing first thing tomorrow.' He allowed her to read through the report until she got to the main artillery. 'Weapons have been successfully fitted and await combat assessment with flight.'

Pandora sighed. 'Finally, some practicality,' she gave the man a pat on the back as she read on. 'You've done well, Professor Morrow. If all goes according to plan, I'll arrange for your reward upon return to Berlin, in our new toy.'

The engineer bowed humbly. 'No reward necessary, My Lady. Hail Hitler.'

To this she smiled, both in satisfaction and amusement. _Hail Hitler…_

 **-=O=-**

Meanwhile, right outside that very tent, Steve Trevor stayed as close as he could to Captain Mustafa, stealthily following his superior officer around the outside of the camp. They were only half way to the plane, tip-toeing past some Nazi Heer soldiers too busy to notice their shadows. Distinguished by the M44 uniform they wore which were quite similar to their battle dress.

The camp site was buzzing with life around the inner circle with drinking and singing in German. All across the plateau, he saw the swastika flag raised high in the wind and their eagle standards in front of every tent.

'So what's the plan?' he asked Mustafa.

Mustafa stopped them as they evaded another patrol unit. He pressed them close to the pavilions. 'The plan, Mr Trevor, is to get to the plane and be ready to start it up. You need to start listening at briefings, Mr Trevor.'

'Well truth be told…this is my first day…actually my first evening,' he said, looking apprehensively at his commander. 'Your my first ever assignment.'

Mustafa sighed, rather annoyed at his superiors. 'Alright, while we wait, Matthews and the rest will sabotage enemy weaponry and equipment. Once they're done we should be ready for take-off as soon as they get to the plane.'

They had spoken is whispers but in doing so had forgotten caution, a young German soldier had passed by, seen them and tried to make off to warn his comrades. Mustafa had acted quickly—grabbed the young man, covered his mouth and with his left hand there appeared a small blade hidden within his sleeve. He lodged it deep within the man's gullet.

'I'm sorry,' he muttered to the dying boy. Steve watched in a mixture of shock and interest as his captain grabbed the corpse and hid him in the shadows. 'We need to move now.'

The plane looked far bigger now up close like this. Steve needed to pace himself and appreciate its ingenuity. It looked much flatter than standard fighters, it's designed strayed as much as it could from the cylindrical body.

But there was another group of Nazi guards seated on a large crate, drinking beer by the looks of it. He handed Steve a small weapon concealed in his pocket. The young recruit looked to him, brow raised. What was he planning on doing with what appeared to be an FP-45 Liberator? 'You know there are two of them, right?'

The Palestinian seemed not to have paid any attention to him and took aim. Then there was a slight whistle…and another, before the two guards collapsed onto the crate. Steve was beyond shocked and asked away.

'What the hell just happened?'

Mustafa showed him the firearm. 'You'll find, Mr Trevor, that A.R.G.U.S is a storehouse of many prototype weapons. This particular weapon is one they developed a few years ago,' he said to the still speechless young man. 'It propels .45 calibre bullets more than thirty yards, no recoil, and no sound. Cartridge holds around five shots.'

'Sounds like a dangerous weapon,' Steve commented, slightly over his shock, 'in the wrong hands.'

'This is war, Mr Trevor…they're dangerous in any hand.'

Inside the plane, Trevor found himself in a state of wonder. Plane was far more spacious than it looked from the outside. It felt like he had just entered into a science fiction comic book and that Rick Flag could have been right and it was indeed an alien spacecraft. It was so strange.

Ten seats arranged in twos until they reached the cockpit. 'What are you thinking?' he asked his captain who looked as though he was witness to some very devastating news. Now looking around him, Steve could see why.

'If this plane is indeed operational, then the Germans a winning jump on us.'

'So what do we do?' again, Trevor asked. 'If this thing isn't operational, then we're sitting ducks surrounded by Nazis…you wanna risk it?'

'Hitler cannot have this weapon, Trevor,' Hafiz replied. 'So it either leaves with us, or not at all.' The captain then showed him a bag full of explosives. Steve finally understood the mission now, and regretted signing up a little.

They continued to search through the plane, examining the many features the aircraft offered. Trevor stopped when he saw the plane's blueprints, pinned against the wall, a clipboard below that looked like it listed the vehicle's parts with ticks beside them. It looked like the plane was fully functional according to the checklist.

They were about to let relief in, until Hafiz noticed another thing… 'Damn…we don't have the keys.'

So he took out another strange device— a small, black ball, smaller than a marble which he then placed in his ear. He took a quick scan of the outside before tapping the ball.

'Pole, Boomer, this is Sion,' he whispered into…nothing. 'We're in but we might need a key…scan for Savage's Den…roger that…'

Once he was finished, he took the ball out and back into his pocket, and now met with even more bewilderment from the American Rookie. 'What was that?'

Hafiz shrugged, 'You didn't get a code name? Mine's Sion, Colonel Matthews is Boomer, Vatu's is Black Widow, the Italian's is Vinci, Rick's is Pole…he hates that one—'

'You know what I mean,' Trevor exclaimed, affronted by his captain's attempted stalling. 'Is that more tech the Agency is keeping—'

'Fine, how about this,' Hafiz suddenly became stern as he drew closer, 'I'll fill you in on everything after we finish the damn mission, is that alright with you?!' Trevor felt like he was getting a good scolding from his mother, the way Mustafa towered over him, he felt like he was a child. 'I'm sorry that you didn't get a fucking tour of the Agency after recruitment but we were short on team members for this operation. Do you want to know why?' Mustafa let the question linger, watching the young man shrink down. 'We take this job and this war seriously.'

Outside, Matthews found the artillery truck in the far western part of the camp. Only one guard lay stationed there. Vatu did her job and took quick care of him with her hidden knife, the same as Hafiz's weapon.

Colonel Flag stood waiting with the rest of the band, for the signal to move in. They found Lady Valkyrie's tent, vacant, in the centre of the camp so after Vatu and Matthews were finished, sent the two there. Hopefully the keys to the aircraft were there.

Sooner than expected, the Australian and the Assassin rejoined them. 'What happened?'

Matthews was trying to catch his breath then pointed to the larger tent in the centre. 'The key's not there. But I found these,' he produced around seven pistols from his pockets. 'These are the prototype weapons she wanted tested,' he suggested. 'Figured they could be useful.'

'Okay…so why'd you run?' Vespucci asked him.

'Pandora's there,' he said and they all tensed up. 'She just missed us but I'm sure that we lost her.'

Suddenly Flag's eyes widened as he looked overhead. 'Then why is she staring at us right now?'

There, outside her tent, Lady Valkyrie stood, hands behind her back, just staring in their direction with a huge smile on her face. She started turning around, looking at the plane. 'Oh Mustafa!' she shouted and every soldier there took out their weapons. 'How I've missed you. Come now, don't be shy…show yourself!'

Hiding behind the tents, Matthews made to leap out and attack but was held back by Flag who urged him patience.

Inside the plane, they both heard her call. Hafiz cursed himself and made a silent prayer as he looked outside the cockpit windscreen, then he searched the panel. The older man directed Trevor to the pilot's seat where he saw a metal plate the shape of a human hand.

'Stay here,' he told the young rookie. 'I'll go get us a hand.'

Mustafa made his way to the Nazi official, as he did on many of their run-ins. The other soldiers had their guns trained on him despite Lady Valkyrie's assurance that she was in no danger from an old friend.

'My, my, Mustafa,' she clicked. 'We missed you in London. How is Zatara these days?'

He gave her a slight smile. 'Well, you know how it is, Pandora. War is old men talking and young men dying. John's trying to avoid both these days.'

'Well you're not really young now are you?'

'Look at you. You haven't aged a day,' he quipped though she merely smiled, tilting her head as she studied him. 'As for where he is because I know that's what you'll ask—He's safe and he's beyond your reach.'

Again she did not seem to show any fear, or anger, but merely stared at him…as if she was looking through his head, and knowing her, she probably was. However, Hafiz had worked many years to strengthen his own mind against her perversions. As her face began to show some contortions, he guessed they worked, to his relief.

'I see my teachings have served you perfectly, even if you do not acknowledge them—'

'Or perhaps you're not as strong as you once believed.'

Her eyes continued to stare at him. 'Well, ten thousand years is a lot of time to test one's strength, and add to their power and potency. Would you like a reminder?' The young looking woman raised her hand and out flew Matthews, speeding their way. But he was then caught by an enormous hand. The Spartan now had him by the throat, tightening just enough to let the Australian squirm around for air.

'Let him go, Lady!' Hafiz roared, taking his own gun from its sheath. 'Let the man go and shall have peace this night,' he finished, this time in a more lighter voice.

Fearing further escalation, he made a silent and discreet gesture behind him for the rest of the tem to get to the plane.

Amidst his laboured gasping, Matthews was able to get a word to his leader. 'Captain…just shoot the bitch…'

That was when something happened… a loud grumble, echoed amongst the rocks. It came from above, like thunder, only it quickly began to sound far different, like a whistling sound. Pandora looked up and for a moment she moved around them, until finally when she stopped, an even larger grin appeared. 'It's time then.' She looked down at Hafiz and then to the brute. 'Kill them—'

She was interrupted by an explosion within her camp. The truck carrying the rest of the prototype weapons burst into a fiery crowd that in turn started a fire around them. Every tent now was combusting.

Using this spontaneous bout of confusion, Hafiz ran up to the Spartan. 'T-hg-il-fo-erbas,' he muttered as he swung what had once been an empty hand when out spurted a sword made of white light and managed to slice off the big guy's hand. The Australian fell to the mud but was helped up again.

Meanwhile, the Spartan roared in pain, at least for a moment before he looked to Pandora who, with a flick of her fingers, grew her companion a new one.

'We need to leave, now!' Hafiz remarked and they both ran for their lives toward the plane, dodging exploding tents on the way.

On board, Hafiz showed them the dismembered hand. When he placed it on the metal hand print, the panel lit up and the engines began to come to life. But it did not move forward for a run up… instead it went straight up into the skies.

On the ground amidst the ensuing chaos, the soldiers tried to contain the fires, one shouted that it was Greek fire. The Spartan, unfazed by the flames and explosions marched of his own pace to retrieve from his own tent a pair of very large blades, disproportionate to his arms. He hooked up the chains on the hilts onto his belt and sprinted after the plane and with one powerful thrust against the stone of the ruins, launched up onto the craft's metal back.

The Team got themselves buckled up with Steve Trevor taking the pilot's seat while Hafiz flew shotgun.

Steve had never flown a vehicle like this before. It felt different though the main controls were the same as any normal plane, there were so many other levers and tinkers that looked alien to him, maybe to anyone, like one he guessed had the plane fly vertically. He felt a little out of his element. Two giant daggers pierced through the top of the cockpit did not help in the slightest.

'Any time now, Trevor,' Flag exclaimed in his seat, urging for some distance be put between them and Santorini. 'Truman will be waiting for us at Laputa.'

Their experienced pilot had now resigned to just pressing the buttons at random until sure enough they were gone, and boy did the plane move. Steve spent the majority of the time cursing as he flew the vessel around Santorini, trying to shake the big Nazi agent off of their backs even as the plane ripped through the air like lightning. For Trevor, it took a while to get used to but now he could manoeuvre the vessel through even the most smallest of crevices, passing through a ruined archway in an attempt to throw the Spartan off. But the Spartan did not budge and he even started tearing a large gash above.

A very bad feeling entered into their hearts as the sky then started to glow, flashing in front of them itself like lightning, like they were struck by a bolt from heaven. The plane started to speed up…and then…boom…

 **-=** _ **WONDER-WOMAN**_ **=-**

 **Author's Note:**

 **I am very sorry it's taken me ages to get around to this fic. I had some very serious Writer's Block regarding Wonder Woman after the last chapter, especially after that Wonder Woman trailer dropped, I felt rather lost a bit. I wonder if I'm juggling too much here. Heck I'd be willing to let one of you guys to continue and finish this Wonder Woman story if you want. Just tell me and maybe we can move them to your page but still be part of this Universe I'm hopefully crafting.**

 **If not I think I might still be able to write it, just it might take longer now.**

 **I don't much know why I chose a World War II setting, maybe it's more because here, the enemy seems more clear. Also I've seen Wonder Woman more on the WWII scene than WWI, maybe it's just me. My intentions are rather to give this story more of that Indiana Jones adventurous feel to it and there's a lot of things one could tell about the Nazis and World War II.**

 **So please review and tell me what needs work.**


	5. Mother of the Damned

— **III—**

* * *

 **MOTHER OF THE DAMNED**

* * *

On Paradis Island, a house of harmony, picturesque perfection, where lived in peace the Greek Tribe of the Amazon, in the thick jungle that surrounded the Amazonian city, a squad of warrior women stealthily sped through the terrain. No obstacle held up against them and their prey.

There was little known to the Amazon people, even of their own island but that was how Hippolyta preferred it. Politics were politics and she knew as well as any the value of a sedated people. But if one were to find an interest in looking at their dark and mistake ridden past, one might find some irregularities. There were two tribes living on Paradise Island. One was the ancient tribe of Amazons that colonised and adapted the Hellen world. A people that accepted only the women of the world.

The other, were the left overs.

In ancient times, before even Hippolyta, tradition had it that Amazonian women would every now and then abduct male seafarers or accept young men from the mainland as tribute, for mating. The girls born of the unions would be taken care of, raised in a secure and loving environment, trained as Amazon warriors—meanwhile, the male offspring would be left in the jungle to be taken by ravenous wolves or the like.

Needless to say, some survived.

The prey these newer, younger warriors hunted—savage men, raised by the dark jungle, left to be as wild as the animals themselves. A watch-post in the North-west of the city spotted a band of these savages these Wolf-sons, gathering a few kilometres from the gates.

They were quite slender beings, the lykos (wolf), moved like them at times, when fleeing or hunting though at times they stood on their hind legs like any other human being. Hairy backs, arms and legs with such wild and distant eyes they looked menacing though Atalanta had to admit, none has ever actually seen one up close before. Those of them they slay are always retrieved by the rest of the pack.

They stopped at the edge of a clearing, spears drawn and ready. Atalanta held her hand up, a gesture of patience to her squad, some of the most fast and agile warriors, trained by her exclusively.

There were seven, maybe eight Wolf-sons camped in the middle of the jungle atrium, they seemed like they were minding their own business, and a small fire lighted their site. To her, they seemed harmless, and young, as naked as when they were born. Probably just passing through, got a bit curious and would be gone by morning. Queen Hippolyta expressed her understanding of this already, but she as adamant about it.

They had to die.

Atalanta gestured to her women and they moved, spread out around the perimeter and when they were ready, she hollered a familiar bird cry.

The attack was swift, in the dead of night a few hours before dawn, the wolves didn't have a chance. The commander was thankful for this, their shrieks were minimal, but in the end, she found herself in the centre of death. Killing is easy, especially in the cover of night, but now, the moon shone for her their deeds. The lifeless bodies, mangled and mutilated.

She crouched down beside one of them, still breathing. This was irregular, it was too easy but she chocked it up to their inexperience. The question was how where they making more of them? She thought they were all male.

The Queen also talked of a former Amazonian girl who started this whole thing. The story of a young woman, who felt sympathy for the young boys that were condemned to die, took the remaining baby boys and retreated into the jungles. She was their protector, their mother, or so legend went. Thus a relentless war had begun. Waged almost ritualistically at the end of every season, a team of Amazon warriors would go into the jungle and battle these Wolf Sons.

Battle? Atalanta looked into the waking boy's fear stricken eyes. Breath was slowly being sucked out of him, he looked up at her, at his doom and she looked down at him, sympathetic, sincerely sorry. Tears fell on him as she placed her hands in position…it would be over quick. But she paused. She spotted a figure standing over head on a large tree branch.

The white wolf stared down into her very soul with glowing yellow eyes. Then in a blink, the wolf disappeared and in its place was a woman, standing in a white-grey toga, also with glowing yellow eyes that were also teary. It was as if she were imploring, pleading her to stop.

The naive Atalanta would have given her that, showed mercy and let her retrieve the boy…but she was war hardened, battle-weary, and she was sorry… _SNAP…_ The savage boy was dead, and the wolf-woman vanished into the dark.

Queen Hippolyta would tell her that war was prevented—Atalanta would think to herself that war had never ended. This was not battle, at least not the ones Atalanta and surely Queen Hippolyta has ever fought in.

— **W—**

The sun had just started her descent upon the world when Diana returned from Vulcan's Forge and headed toward the Temple of Fate whereupon the Queen often found herself residing during the day. Her daughter would go up to the tower and see her there, staring at the waters of the Seeing Pool, but what she saw she would never disclose to her.

Now Cassandra was up in the tower. When Diana got there, she saw the young girl staring into the pool, Hippolyta standing over her and asking her a series of questions. 'How do your dreams appear?' she asked.

Cassandra didn't know how to answer. 'Well, they're strange, they aren't…I mean they don't make sense.'

'No I mean how do they appear—vivid, clear, or fuzzy and dazed, as if you were hit over the head?'

Cassandra had to think on this for a while, trying to recall things that usually vanish once she opens her eyes. 'I…They're clear…no they're fuzzy, sometimes. But most times the dreams are clear, as clear as though I were awake, yet more focussed on people in particular, while everything else seems out of focus.'

The Queen smiled at the girl and took a seat on the edge of the pool beside her. 'Your dreams are a natural occurrence, young one.'

'They seem so real, you're Grace,' she looked away from the water and to her queen's emerald eyes. 'It was like I was there in the fields, surrounded by corpses, men in some sort of garments that I thought looked strange, carrying these…boom-sticks like wands. The magic that came out of them was nothing but death.'

Diana whom had been standing at the entrance to the circular nave, leaning against a pillar to the south, tried to listen in closer. It always intrigued her, magic, that Seeing Pool and what her mother sees in it.

'What you saw,' Hippolyta began, 'was a battle, Cassandra—something happening out there beyond the seas. These dreams, have they started happening before you came to see me?'

'Before the training, you're Grace,' she confirmed. Cassandra then began to star off into the distance. The harrowing plunge of her dreams rising yet again as she recalled the last images she remembered. 'I saw something else, My Queen. A man with skin as white as the ashes of the dead, no hair upon his head, red marks across his body that completed a swirl of pain. I saw in his eyes…was a hatred for all that he sees as inferior to himself.'

From the very first word, Hippolyta was filled with a dread she'd not felt in years and suddenly the weight of time which had been so absent in Themyscira was laden upon her heart like tidal waves. When Cassandra asked her what was wrong she found herself lost for words, until she spotted her daughter by the chamber's entrance. 'Diana,' she announced, causing Cassandra to jump slightly at her friend's direction. 'I would not have expected you to be here, especially while I'm in session.'

Diana offered her a semi-sincere smile. 'Would you prefer I sneak up here at night when everyone's asleep.'

The Queen seemed both annoyed and amused before breaking that trance and inquiring as to why she was here to begin with.

'Actually I came to talk to you about the Ceremonial Games tomorrow but hearing all of this…well, perhaps we should talk later.'

'No, no, by all means, daughter we are just about finished here.'

Cassandra excused herself and hugged Diana on her way out, 'Blessed day to you, princess,' she smiled.

Then it was just her and her mother now. Diana approached the pool but stood at a relatively safe distance at least to her. So they left the air around them still and quiet until, 'So what was it you wanted to discuss?'

'I was just wondering if I could participate in the Hunt tomorrow.'

Hippolyta groaned and started for the entrance around the pool. 'Diana I have already given you blessing to fight in the tournament as your Birthday gift, is that not enough?'

'Mother, don't pretend that the tournament is anything but a bone for the defenceless pup that is me. It's just a performance for my sake. Blunted blades, rules dsigned for me not to get hurt, I know that ruse well now mother.'

'Honour can be won in many ways, daughter. It is a display of your prowess, there is honour in that—'

'There is honour in fooling people into thinking I bested warriors ordered to let me win?' Diana was both hurt and outraged with her mother. 'Mother I want to be a real warrior, I want to challenge myself beyond Atalanta's training, maybe put it to use and be _of_ use to Themyscira. The hunt is where most of the warriors get their renown. Artemis is going, Thea is going. Arya and Cleo are both on the frontline and those two hate conflict, so why can't I go?'

'Because that is no place for one of Royal blood—'

'But you've fought on the frontlines your entire life,' Diana growled incredulously at her mother. 'What good is my training early before dawn if I will find no use of them in the field? Why would I need to learn how to fight if I won't be?'

The Queen sighed and approached her troubled child. She placed a careful hand upon her shoulder, 'Daughter, trust in my wisdom when I say that you have much to learn, that you are not ready for the Hunt.' And she said nothing else but moved on, leaving Diana alone by the Seeing Pool, wreathing in her own rage.

— **\W/—**

'Calm down, Diana, it's not like the queen has done anything wrong,' Cassandra counsels as she writes casually on her papyrus scroll. 'She's just trying to be a good and protective mother.'

Diana was seething with anger, so much so that Cassandra could feel the heat of her frustration burning her skin. 'Oh and you know a thing or two about motherhood, is that it?'

Cassie shrugged that unintentionally back-handed comment off. 'Well no, but I picture any mother would want to protect their child by any means necessary…'

It wasn't her words that made Diana sigh and mentally kick herself in the arse, but the emotions behind it. Cassandra was a small child when she was brought to the Greek Amazons. Prince Hector of Troy had brought her with Hades before the conclusion of the First World War (Trojan War). It would be the last time she saw her mother, father or her brothers alive again. Thus now Diana apologised with a warm hug, planting a kiss on her temple. 'I'm sorry, Cassie. I did not mean to be insensitive, and I know mother's intentions, but I'm an Amazon, I need to start acting like one.' A look of determination passed the young princess' face. 'That's why I'm going to compete in the hunt.'

'Ooh, Hippolyta is not going to like that.'

'Neither is Artemis once I've beaten her and score higher.'

'Actually…I would pay to see your lover's face if you actually do beat her,' she chuckled. 'Now don't get me wrong, I like her, Dee, but Artemis is such a _kuna._ '

They both shared a moment of laughter that lifted Diana spirits a bit, and when that moment was over, she asked if Cassie would want to join her in the markets to get some supper.

'I will, just give me a few minutes. You could meet me there.'

She would have protested, but as Diana stared down at her pages, she almost started to weep. She was writing a letter to Prince Hector of Troy, to her brother, though Diana was sure she knew it was to no point. The War had ended, Troy was destroyed and the Royal family was slain in such a brutal way. Her mother often cited it as a prime example of Man's barbarity—that they were nothing but monsters to be rid of.

She remembered those stories though as she recalled, they were far brighter when she was a child. She told of heroic men and women, of gods and goddesses and monsters.

Apparently her mother had been friends with some of them. With Cassandra's brother Prince Hector, King Odysseus, even a Kemetian Pharaoh had been good friends for many years and trained by Chiron himself. _Mother knew quite a lot of famous people,_ she had once commented to Atalanta. She tried to picture how her mother might have looked among those legends but seething with anger she could only see the various ways to end her. Artemis said it was a good stress reliever and Diana was hardly one to disagree with her.

 **\W/**

Queen Hippolyta had a grave feeling she'd just laid herself for her own funeral. A mother's instincts are never wrong, or so her own mother had informed her, if not only vaguely. Like many of her people, the first lesson she received was the sword. To focus upon the teachings of Ares and Athena, she wished she had more instruction upon being a better mother, but the experiences of past events in her life had chased her into reclusion.

She feared for her daughter. She feared for the world Diana longed for and it pained her to deny such passions. But should she be so paranoid in the matter?

Her daughter was already stronger than her peers, faster, smarter and beyond her biases, she knew she could handle herself in any situation. She could not deny it—Diana was worthy to inherit the throne besides her bloodline.

Hippolyta was snapped back into reality by a loud and sharp bang at her feet—a bloodied potato bag. Atalanta, her old friend knelt upon one knee, head lowered in respect, but she could tell, her shaken grasp of her spear that she was quite displeased. 'We hunted down the Wolf-men at the borders as instructed Your Grace.'

'They are all slain then?'

The captain nodded and then looked up at her queen, her face serious. 'And _she_ appeared as you've predicted.'

Hippolyta rested her elbow on her throne, rubbing her chin in thought. 'Circe is getting reckless,' she reckoned. 'She's widening her venture beyond the realm of safety.'

'Or perhaps it is the Wolf-men acting upon their own curiosity,' the Amazon Captain offered offhandedly. The queen gazed upon her friend in almost challenging stare, unflinching. 'That head you had asked for came from a child of theirs. They were all children, Hippolyta. They were no older than your own and you knew this. I know you did!'

The Queen rose up from her throne in growing anger. 'Do not now think you could hope to sympathise with that witch and her family of degenerates, Atalanta. She turned her back on her sisters, on our way of life.'

'No, she questioned it!'

'Okay, Atalanta that's enough!' She descended off of the platform yet still towered over the military captain in more ways than one. 'Go to the garrison and relieve your women. Have them make a quick sweep of the territory ready for tomorrow's hunt and then return for I expect to see you more cheerful and lively at the festival tonight.'

Atalanta gritted her teeth but relented and rose up to salute her in compliance. She turned around but before leaving she made sure her queen could hear her say, 'She only acted upon the instincts of a mother, Your Grace.'

Slightly melted, the remorseful queen watched her usually hardened military leader walk away almost defeated. She slumped back onto her throne and released her aggravated heart. Today was definitely not her day. She looked to her left out of a window, she could see the tall mountain in the distance and knew she would be doing the same, watching her in her tower, watching from somewhere in her solace.

In truth, she had inherited this duty, hunting down the Wolf-men from her mother, to hunt down the children of this woman that defected during her mother's reign. Funny thing was that she hadn't even seen the sorceress up close, only in passing stories and when she was a child before her betrayal.

She was left in the throne room, alone. The oculus on the dome above sent a ray of light just shy away from her feet. It highlighted the grey fur of the head peeking out of the sack. She released the crown from her head and laid it upon her lap and left herself to ponder on the weight of this very trinket. The Laws of the Amazons are sacred, and they demand justice, they demand her to enact this justice.

— **III—**

 **Author's Note: I must confess I had started to lose my muse for this story. Of what direction to take this or at least the details, initially I had a clear vision of my Wonder Woman, of this fic. It was the little details about the story that had me down. But I did not want that to be the case. I guess after seeing the Wonder Woman movie trailer I was drawn back to this. However it might be a little difficult for me to upload stories for a while. Though I would generally appreciate the support most especially if it also came with helpful criticism, about story structure, maybe some tips about writing my characters.**


	6. Festival of the Stranger

— **IV—**

* * *

 **FESTIVAL OF THE STRANGER**

* * *

In Ancient Greece possibly fifth century BC, among the pantheon of the Olympian gods, beings that bore the likeness of mankind—names and faces like Demeter, goddess of the seasons, Apollo, Lord of the Sun, Poseidon of the Seas and of the Earth, then Hera, Mother of the Heavens, Hades, King of the Underworld, and Zeus, Master of all that dwelled below the blue skies. Among the thousands of gods and goddesses, there was a faceless one, the Stranger.

Tonight was the celebration of their discovery, but it also happened to coincide with the day of Diana's birth. How she cursed the gods for her fortune.

Diana had spent most of that day avoiding her mother as best as she could and longed more now than ever to just retreat to the mountain and help Hephaestus with the forge. There were hoplite guards on her for most of the day and it annoyed her to no end.

At least in the archives she could be alone, where she could hear herself think, and immerse herself in the stories therein, written in Old Greek and Sumerian cuneiform.

The circular rotunda was filled top to bottom with shelf after shelf of scrolls and bound documents. By this point though, not even Diana had read them all. Some of them were forbidden to the public and her and were primarily there to be protected on behalf of whoever had owned them before.

'What are you looking for again, Cassandra?' she inquired absently as she rummaged through the age old papyrus scrolls, an introduction to the rise of the First Empire.

Her young companion was far too preoccupied to answer her until she finally pulled out a large brown sheep-skin scroll from an enclosed compartment beneath an old desk. 'I want to know the story of my birth, Cassandra. You come here more times than even I—you must have some idea of where I might find such information.'

A look of confusion passed by the young oracle's face and she cocked up a brow. 'I do, your Highness, from Queen Hippolyta herself, we all know your story.'

Diana huffed, annoyed. Yes she was well aware of her legend. Moulded from clay on behest of Hera, the Queen of Olympus and then given life in the form of a lightning bolt by Mighty Zeus Himself. Thus it had always been called to question whether she held divine blood or not, what were the technicalities, the rules of such transaction? She herself had questioned the legend. She would have thought if it were so that her mother would feel indebted to the Olympian King yet there were no shrines or idols which depicted the Mighty Zeus anywhere, or no temples for that matter. If it were so, then for what purpose was her birth to serve, especially if only to be resigned to eternal purgatory on Paradise Island.

'She's hiding something, Cassandra,' the princess declared sadly. 'She tells me that Man's World is cursed—forever in the thralls of Ares and is beyond saving. She says it has become desolate, a reflection of Tartarus itself yet I find she stares longingly into the Seeing Pool for hours at a time.' Diana then starts pacing around, her steps growing more aggressive. 'Mother has us training in combat, insists that I learn the ways of the warrior, but for what—to watch on the sidelines?'

'Diana, calm your-self,' Cassandra urged. 'She let you compete in the games.'

'The games are a joke, it's the Hunt that I'm interested in, and she says I'm not ready? I'm more stronger, smarter and just as skilled as Atalanta. I'm ready as I'll ever be to do the run.'

'Yeah, what exactly are you guys hunting down?' the Seer interrupted. 'I mean, I know it's some sort of animal if I'm not mistaken but from the way Artemis looked after the Hunt last year I had doubts it was at any way smaller than her. It looked big.'

'Hera's Grace, Cassie, aren't you actually _in_ the hunt tomorrow?' the princess gazed at her in disbelief.

'Yeah, about that,' Cassandra started, 'I might not be able to go tomorrow, on the hunt, I mean.'

Diana suddenly perked up like one of the island's gazelles. 'But the Hunt is an important tradition, Cassie.'

'Yep, with swords and spears and armour and a helmet that covers most of your face so don't mess it up.' The two burst out in joy and excitement, hugging each other tightly. 'So if I'm not mistaken, seeing as I don't know what you guys are hunting, mind filling me in on the secret?'

Diana walked up to a desk in the corner where the surface lie piles of papyrus scrolls, among them was one she'd recently brought up to re-read. 'Actually it's a story you might already have heard, or at least a variation of it,' the young princess began. 'An Amazon sister back before my mother ascended upon the throne, had betrayed us and the Amazonian way, she took baby boys, forbidden from Themyscira, into the jungle. They all lived among wolves and some say they bred with them, creating an unholy beast, monsters. Others say that the traitor was a sorceress and blended the boys with wolves, either way, their animal instincts along with their human male impulses for conflict have come up with an unsavoury mix.'

'So you're hunting down wolves?'

Diana scoffed at the understatement. 'They're Wolf-sons and they're vicious, ask Atalanta herself, she's gone up against them before.'

The white haired seer gave her a lopsided look, unconvinced. 'I've noticed you people don't take kindly to castors or anything of magical origins really. All the stories I've heard or read have sorcerers play a villainous role.'

'My mother says that wasn't always the case,' her voice started to dim in their solitude, as though it were a sin. 'Once magic was revered, a gift from the gods. But magic is nothing but trickery, a maze of deceit that nearly ended our people.'

Cassandra did not say anything to her princess, not to agree or disagree, but her face had grown sombre and her eyes, distant.

 **\W/**

In the city below, women hung up lanterns from their rooftops, lit in all sorts of bright colours though favoured was the majestic yet mysterious green. In the long years that gods and goddesses inhabited the hearts of mortals, the Unknown god, the Stranger's god had evolved to become associated with those whose voice had been shrunk, overshadowed, outcasts of society.

The first of the Amazons had worshipped the Stranger when they were liberated from their male masters. Thus it was a tradition that carried throughout the ages, even as they had splintered into clans, the Stranger united their spirit as one.

They had feasts for many of the gods, feasts to the gods as offering for a new season, a plentiful harvest, or as a balm for the sick and dying. Sometimes they held a feast to honour Dionysus the god of feasts and wine Himself. Diana thought that the nights of jolly merrymaking and alcohol centred meals were what truly brought Themyscira together.

'This is the life, don't you think Diana?' the Amazon with raven hair, smiled at her lover perched on the edge of the tower like an owl. 'It's so, peaceful out,' somehow Diana got the sense that the words were forced.

'The Stranger be pleased.' Cassandra was there as well, reading a bound collection from the archives—wisdom from some dead philosopher.

'Hey, Cassandra,' Artemis called, 'don't you have to till the fields or something?'

'It's night time, sister Artemis, right now I just want to read—'

'Then read somewhere else,' the warrior groaned, annoyed. Clearly she was asserting the youngling's intrusion of what would have been a romantic night of intense love-making.

'Hey, I was here first alright. _You_ go get a room.'

Diana chuckled as she paced around the Seeing Pool and when she sat down upon the smooth marble well, lightly trailing her fingers in the water, she could see her reflection staring back and for once she could see something, an itch. That itch, she could see it in her eyes, in the quiver of her mouth and it was hard to consider she could have never noticed it before. _How big is this world?_

'By the gods!'

Artemis sprinted to the princess' side, pulling her away from the bubbling pool of water. 'What did you do?'

Cassandra was glued to the water's reflection, like some invisible force was pulling her by the neck. Diana was applying her own strength to save her but it was of no use and she feared any more pressure would damage her. 'Cassandra,' she called into her ear, trying to snap the Trojan girl out of her trance. The usually calm and soft-spoken young woman started to shake, her eyes started to glow blue as her hands now completely submerged in the water which started to bubble up like it was alive. 'Cassandra, remember who you are and take back control of yourself!'

'I am in control, sister,' she said though Diana could no longer trust this stranger's voice, it was not Cassandra's, in fact it was like two distinct voices talking all at once. 'I'm in control but…' Then she paused, her face falling. She pulled her delicate white hands from the pool. 'Something's wrong.'

 **-=\W/=-**

In the city's main square where the festival of the Stranger God, Queen Hippolyta, upon her throne watched with amusement, her heart filled to its breadth with a warm joy that she'd been deprived of these past few days, looming over he happiness was the Seeing Pool.

She watched her people, her sisters merrily dance around, praising the Strange God for a bountiful harvest and singing for favour on tomorrow's hunt in His honour, Him and the Goddess Artemis, as per tradition.

'Praise Zeus!' cried one of the citizens. 'Praise Mighty Zeus!'

They all cheered and roared out, victoriously, hailing their creator's name, the King of Olympus, and soon they erupted into song. A group had even begun to dance in a circle around the centre fire.

Atalanta looked to her queen who laughed joyously at the spectacle before them seemed so different to the Hippolyta on the throne. She was so different from the one who ordered the heads of those wolf children. 'Is there something on your mind, old friend?' says the queen, her gaze still on the festivities.

The aging warrior standing by her side, arms crossed over her breasts, could not help but smirk at her. 'Just reminiscing about old times,' she answered her.

Hippolyta chuckled and takes a sip of her wine, basking in a taste that seemed only this morning carried with it a morbid and if she was truly honest a pathetic sense of self-pity.

What the Seeing Pool shows her, a world in eternal darkness, then a bright light but not of hope, but suffering. She saw women suffocating under a weight of evil men pushing down. It was hard for her, to decide this and have Hades fashion for them a shield from Man's World. A place where her Amazon sisters could retain their purity as Hera and the Strange God intended. If there was any argument in her mind about the correctness of her actions then what the oracular waters showed her had drowned all that out.

'There is nothing in the World of Man worth saving,' she caught herself saying though in the loud music playing before them she was sure no one had heard her. She sighs and drinks more of her crimson numbing juice only to find its taste had changed once again. She looks up at Atalanta and asks for her daughter.

'Last I saw she had Artemis and the little Trojan sister is in the tower.'

She looks across from them, on the other side of the large forum, at the main tower of the Temple of Fate and the light glimmering at the top where the Seeing Pool lies. Suddenly she hears a sudden bang, like that of thunder. A series of lightning surges flashed across the skies in the east. Their table ceased all activity, eyes now glued to the storm of power over the pitch black skies. The rest of the party goers however, seemed to be under the impression that it was part of the festivities—a fabulous display of light that almost looked magical.

Hippolyta's eyes become large saucers of fear that catches Atalanta off guard immediately. As their sisters revel in the festivities and the magic of the night, the queen, sits on her seat, gripping her arm rests like her life depended on it.

'Hippolyta, are you okay?'

There is silence for a brief moment of time the queen's breathing heaves out of her chest in rapid succession. Then she stops and looks to her old warrior friend. 'It's nothing,' she says with a long exhale of breath. 'The gods have spoken.'

 **-=O=-**

— **=IV=—**


End file.
